


and your heart is heavy and red.

by gummybearsandscotch



Category: Liquor Series - Poppy Z. Brite
Genre: Cock Worship, Drug Use, Fluff, M/M, a smidge of feminization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gummybearsandscotch/pseuds/gummybearsandscotch
Summary: They get married, and then they get a little high.
Relationships: John Rickey/Gary "G-Man" Stubbs
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	and your heart is heavy and red.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seinmit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/gifts).



> I enjoyed the hell out of writing this. Thank you for letting me run rampant and filthy with these two.
> 
> I hope it's a delicious Christmas treat for you. ♥️
> 
> (Title from Melissa Ferrick's "Drive".)

The whole day felt surreal. From the lead-up, to the ceremony, to the dinner afterwards -- he knows they both blubbered at some point but he can't even remember the details.

It's like a fever dream, a changing of one season of his life to another.

Perpetual, blissful twilight. 

Now, wrapped in the hazy half-light of their hotel suite, G-Man feels like he's floating. Light as a feather, stiff as a board, some shit like that. Rickey breathes smoke into his mouth and he groans a little as his cock twitches underneath his boxers. He's the luckiest sonovabitch in the whole fucking world. 

How could he not be, with John Rickey all naked and turned on in his arms? He takes a moment to appreciate the view. 

Gelled hair tousled, pupils blown wide, lips chapped and red and raw from kissing him -- Rickey looks like a fucking _wet dream._ He thumbs up against one of Rickey's nipples with the tip of a blunt nail, watching his husband shudder with pleasure bordering on pain. Rickey is so sensitive and responsive when he's high, and G-man would be a damn liar if he said he didn't like taking advantage of it. It's one of the rare times that the anxiety just flows out of him, easy as anything, something G-man doesn't often get to see; he's used to the version of Rickey that's pulled tight as a bow string, ready to snap.

Right now he's like putty in G-man's hands. 

"Fuck. Christ. Will you... _ugh_ , will you suck me?" His eyes roll back in his head as Gary pinches his nipple between two calloused fingertips. "Need your mouth on me, G, or I'm gonna lose it."

It's a pretty tempting plea. G-man leans in to lick a hot stripe over the hollow of Rickey's throat, the curve of it tasting like musk and clean sweat. His eight o'clock shadow is rough on Gary's tongue. He imagines that he must look pretty rugged himself after the day's festivities, in need of a good shower and some rest, but that doesn't matter right now. All he can think about is working Rickey's zipper down and reaching, greedily, for the hard, hot flesh inside.

Everything seems to move in slow motion, then all at once -- Rickey's hands in his unkempt hair, Rickey's gutteral moan as the swollen head of his dick slips past G-man's lips, Rickey's muscles trembling under his hands as he grasps at his husband's hips. It's familiar as anything else that's constant in his life. The act of blowing Rickey is something that feels like coming home. No, really. Sinking down on Rickey's cock, so practiced at it that he doesn't even gag as it nudges the muscles of his throat, gives him the same feeling that comes with sliding into his nice warm bed after a long day.

It's just that damn _good._

He's distantly aware that Rickey is talking, probably has been talking for a while now, but the words are lost to the roar of blood in G-man's ears as he worships sloppily at the shrine of Rickey's thighs. Sucking, swallowing, trails of spit down his chin, pre-cum heady in the cradle of his throat. He could _live_ like this, could stay here forever and ever and never get bored...

He whines when fingers wrap themselves in his hair and tug, easing him up, his mouth still open as he's faced with Rickey's wild stare. "God _damn_ , G-man. Are you trying to win a fucking medal? I wanted to make this last a while, bit..." He laughs low and easy, making G-man's heart jump in his chest. "You keep that up and there's no way I'm gonna last long enough to fuck you." 

"That'd be some shit, huh?" He licks around the flared edge, teasing, hoping he looks and sounds seductive and not just slurring like the stoned and lovesick idiot he is. He must look pretty good because Rickey suddenly has him flat on his back in a move that Gary wasn't prepared for. It knocks the wind out of him, but that's okay, because Rickey kisses him and he feels like his husband breathes air right into his lungs, filling him up on the inside the same way he does when they're fucking.

_Only, y'know. Symbolically._

"What?" Rickey mumbles into his mouth.

"Nothing. Can't tell if I'm talkin' out loud or just in my head." G-man wraps his legs around Rickey's waist and rocks up against him with all the grace of a horny teenager. Rickey just snorts and pins down his hips with his own. 

There's a long, drawn out moment where the only noise in the room is their heavy breathing and the wet sounds of their mouths moving in tandem. The sound of a cap being opened and the obscene squirt of lube breaks the spell, and Rickey laughs a little as Gary shimmies awkwardly out of his boxers, hard cock springing free against his husband's thigh. 

"What a pretty bride you make," Rickey teases, slick fingers making their way between his thighs. "Gonna get you so wet for me, make you drip."

G-man's eyes roll back in his head as those thick digits push into him, burn and stretch that he's grown accustomed to, and the _squelch_ when they open him up is enough to make his cock jump against his stomach. "You'd better. How else is a good Catholic girl going to lose it on her wedding night?" It was meant to be a joke, but Rickey turns a stare on him that feels like a splash of cold water to the face. The air around them constricts and grows tight and then Rickey presses his mouth to that sweet spot under G-man's ear, voice harsh as he asks him, "Is that how you want to play it? Giving it up to me like a blushing bride?"

Maybe it's the weed. Maybe it's that he's still riding the high of their wedding day. Maybe they're both just foul, kinky bastards. Whatever it is, his voice sounds tiny and a million miles away when he manages to stutter out a reply. "Do it. Please? Please make me yours. Fuck, I'll be your good wife."

Rickey groans and scissors his fingers faster, harder, focusing intently like it's their first time doing this instead of the umpteenth time he's fingered the other man. "I know you will, know you will, _shit..._ " He pulls out of G-man and uses the same sticky hand to lube up his cock. Heat rolls in his belly as he pushes Gary's thighs up and positions himself between them, his dick resting against the curve of his husband's ass, and they share a long kiss that sends warmth all the way down to his toes. 

G-man mumbles against his wet mouth. "Be gentle with me." Rickey can both feel and hear the smile in Gary's voice; he lets out a shaky laugh and pushes in, slow as anything, every nerve ending on fire as plush heat surrounds his cock. 

"Don't know how," Rickey says. But he does. He handles G-man with a reverence that he doesn't allow much else in his life. 

When their bodies are finally pressed flush, and their union feels holy and perfect, Rickey makes a raw sound of pleasure that echoes back to him in the form of G-man crying out his name. The bed squeaks with their lovemaking, or whatever it is -- it's not gentle, but it is tender, and each in and out motion carries with it the weight of so many years together, the familiarity that comes with fucking and fighting together for so long.

_I'm getting sappy in my old age_.

G-man feels the hot prick of tears in the corners of his eyes, and Rickey leans in and licks over his cheek, tasting salt and sweat and something distinct to G-man. Through his drug and sex-addled haze, he thinks he'd love to bottle that taste. Drown all his sorrows in it, raise a glass of it, in a glorious toast to the man taking each punctuated thrust of his hips with great vocal appreciation. 

"Come on, handsome. Cum for me, let the whole world hear you!" Rickey ups his speed, ignoring the almost audible creak of his spine, and pistons his hips to hit that sweet spot inside of G-man that makes him see stars. He curses and plants his heels in the small of Rickey's back as he tenses and cums against his belly.

Afterward he's just a sweaty, trembling pile of limbs underneath Rickey, the force of his orgasm leaving him feeling pleasantly drained. It doesn't take long for his husband to follow suit, his jaw clenched tight as he pumps the other man full of cum. 

When time starts again, and the world starts to become a little clearer, the two look at each other for a long time without saying anything. Rickey gives up the ghost first when his eyes slide shut from pure damn exhaustion. "You wear me out." 

With a silent, breathless chuckle, G-man mouths "I love you."

And even though Rickey's eyes aren't open to see it, he still mumbles back, "Love you too."


End file.
